


The Long Pull: Friendly Competition

by Dtales



Series: The Long Pull [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Come Eating, Exhibitionism, F/F, Futanari, Large Cock, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Public Nudity, Two Penises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dtales/pseuds/Dtales
Summary: A competitor to the Futa Brew, Bukoffee is a drive-up chain of coffee shops. The futa baristas were special belts that allow them to select dozens of exotic flavors.This is the story of one Bukoffee location on October 1, the first day where pumpkin spice lattes are available.





	The Long Pull: Friendly Competition

Years ago, an enterprising yet mysterious entrepreneur established a new variety of coffee shop. They had developed a new form of biological implant for that equally mysterious sexual minority: the futanari, biologically female women with penises.

When inserted into the rectum, the implant stimulates the prostate, increases libido and the production of semen. It was an allegedly simple adjustment to the formulation to allow the implant to impart flavors into the ejaculate itself.

The Founder, who is seldom called by any other name, used this in the most logical way. They established the first entirely futa-staffed coffee shop in downtown Los Angeles. Inside, hung futa baristas, wearing micro-miniskirts that revealed their perpetual erections, would gleefully masturbate into a cup and mix it with excellent espresso to make a "latte sans pareil."

This was the name the Founder originally wanted for his establishment. His marketing consultants suggested a simpler name: The Futa Brew. Evidently, including 'futa' in the name would make it appear when people were Googling for futa pornography. They called it 'search engine optimization.'

Today, the Futa Brew has dozens of locations across the West coast and reaching almost to the Missisippi river. For a coffee shop serving such a niche market, most districts... even most states, could only support one Futa Brew shop, usually in a high-traffic urban area.

With the creation of this new market, inevitably... competitors would start to appear.

This is one story, from one competitor, one shop... one day.

But a very important day in the coffee business.

***

October 1st.

The location: Albuquerque, New Mexico. Berri drove her Volkswagen Beetle into the parking lot of this plaza. It was very convenient to only have to do one minute of non-highway driving to get to work. After all, being close to the highway was what made this location popular.

In the center of this parking lot, standing out like a mushroom on a flat stretch of black rock, was a gray building only slightly larger than the defunct Fotomat kiosks. The sign on the blue canopy read,"Bukoffee." The last lowercase 'e' was slightly rotated, so that the open space at the bottom half of the 'e' looked like an open mouth, catching the white blasts of jizz that decorated the right half of the board.

When they applied for the logo's copyright, the designers insisted that the white stuff was coffee. When it was suggested that this would be more obvious if the squiggles were made a color other than white, the designers refused.

Berri parked in her normal space, sadly not one of the three or four spaces right next to the building, which were reserved for walk-in customers. At least they had reserved parking far enough away from the building that the line of cars moving through the drive-up would likely never smash into them. Among the assigned employee parking, there was a car that wasn't normally there. The vanity license plate read 'SZZNNE.'

Berri left her car, rubbing a wrinkle out of her white T-shirt with her palm. She had parked next to another car, a burgundy Camry that seemed so common around here that Berri knew she'd have to find one if she ever planned a bank robbery; the cops would never pick it out of a crowd. They might pick this one out, as it was covered in bumper stickers celebrating hard rock and concerts, like the notches on a bedpost.

She tapped on the window. Inside was Enola, eyes closed and head on the steering wheel. If it wasn't for the rock music playing loud enough to be heard through the closed windows, one might assume she was asleep.

At the sound of the knock, Enola looked up. She sniffed, turned off the radio and left her car. Enola was a full-blooded Cherokee woman with black hair, prominent cheekbones and a sharp jaw. Her eyes were so dark, they almost looked black, but for the shimmer of light that always seemed to appear within them. Unlike what might be expected of her, she wore no jewelry and had no braids. She did own a lot of concert T-shirts.

"What's Suzanne doing here?" Berri asked, in her New Zealand accent. She had short brown hair with highlights of chestnut. Her eyes were a faint blue-gray, her lips pink and her skin fair.

"I don't know." Enola said softly, folding her arms. "But I saw her car, so I said... I'm going to wait a bit before stepping in here."

"Well, I'm going inside, 'cuz it's hot out here." Berri stepped over the concrete parking stop and towards the door. "And I can't get naked until I'm inside. Suzanne said so." She opened the door and felt the refreshing wave of cold air rush over her. It had only been thirty seconds since stepping out of the air-conditioning of her car, but that was enough exposure to the heat. In Albuquerque, until it was winter... it was still summer.

"Why does her license plate have two Zeds in it?" Berri asked herself, looking back to the obnoxious vanity plate. "Her name doesn't have two Zeds, does it?"

Suzanne stood at the counter, with another woman beside her whom Berri didn't recognize. The stranger was about five-and-a-half feet tall, no older than twenty-one, very pale with a huge wave of red hair reaching her butt. Dark eyeliner and mascara surrounded her bright blue eyes and freckles decorated her arms.

"There you are, Berri." Suzanne said. "I'm glad you're here, because I wanted to show you something. We're doing something new this year."

Enola had entered the shop behind Berri. who asked, "What? What's different?"

"Well, it's October 1st, so we're finally bringing back pumpkin spice for the next two months." Suzanne beamed with enthusiasm.

Berri nodded without saying anything. This was actually her least favorite time to work here. Despite being a Caucasian woman in her early twenties... she hated everything flavored with pumpkin spice. The only time she ever tried a real pumpkin spice latte, she gagged so hard that she saw stars.

Suzanne continued, "But as you know, it's hard to keep up with the pumpkin spice orders here. So... this is January. She's a temp worker who will be making pumpkin spice and nothing BUT pumpkin spice for the morning and afternoon rushes."

January smiled and waved.

"So there's going to be three of us back here?" Enola asked. "The last time we did three baristas, it was a mess."

"That was the old system, with the pneumatic lines running into the ceiling." Suzanne said. "With the new flavor belts, you'll be fine. In fact, because January will only be making the one flavor, she's going to use the standard pumpkin implant that our competitors use."

"You can say 'Futa Brew,' Suzanne." Berri said. "I worked there for two years."

"Will she be on drive-thru or counter?" Enola asked.

"Neither. She's here exclusively to make pumpkin spice."

Berri blinked. "What, every day?"

"I'm ready to pull sixty days in a row." January said confidently.

"So... you're going to get... forty-something hours a week? For eight weeks?"

"I can handle it." January said.

"I'm still getting thirty-six. I was hoping to squeeze a few more hours in... does that include overtime?"

"Only on Sundays." Suzanne said.

Berri took in a breath. "Well, all right. Welcome to Bukoffee."

"Berri, is that you?" Called the woman at the drive-thru. There was a gap in the cars coming by, so she moved away from the window.

"Hey, Adri." Berri said. "How was the night shift?"

"Fine." Adrianne answered. "You want one before I get out of the belt?"

"I'd love one, actually." Berri said. "You have amaretto cream?"

"Sure do. Wanna watch?"

"Always." Berri smiled.

Adrianne was wearing a large black belt around her hips instead of pants. The belt had thirty-two round cartridge slots running around it like bullets on a bandoleer. Below the belt, a flat tube went all the way around the belt, down the intergluteal cleft, and finally disappearing up into her ass. The device resembled a strap-on harness.

But of course, Adrianne didn't need a strapon.

Adrianne found the cartridge that held the amaretto cream concentrate. She depressed the button on the top of the cartridge with her thumb. A CO2 cartridge at the back of the belt activated, the negative pressure pulling a dose of the concentrate out of the cartridge, through the tubes, and up Adrianne's ass. The CO2 being released made a gentle click and 'ffft' noise, like a soda tower at a restaurant being activated.

After years of working here, hearing that sound so often, both Berri and Enola had developed a powerful Pavlovian response. They both suddenly felt themselves growing hard, even though they weren't wearing their belts yet. A cruel ex-girlfriend of Berri's had changed her phone's text notification sound to this distinct hiss to tease her.

Berri quickly unfastened her shorts and dropped them, releasing her huge stiffening cock from within. The sight of caused Enola to push her jeans down, exposing her own large cock. This was not a breach in workplace protocol: there simply was no place to change clothes in this building. If someone was shy, they could change in the building's single unisex lavatory. But changing in there was like changing clothes inside a cardboard box.

And of course... none of them were shy.

For Adrianne, seeing hard naked futa cock was nothing new. It was just something she worked with. But half-hard cocks, slowly bulging and swelling, the gentle veins growing in prominence, watching as they expanded in every dimension to the lengths that only her kind truly reached...

Adrianne sprayed her seed into the cup very swiftly. She filled the cup about halfway up, then filled the rest with some recently-brewed coffee.

"Here you go." She handed the coffee to Berri. "One Adri special."

"Thanks. I really need this." Berri took a long sip. She set it on the counter and removed her shirt, leaving her lacy pink bra, the only piece of clothing she'd be wearing for the day, except the all-important flavor belt.

Adrianne decoupled the disposable nozzle from the belt's flavor hose, leaving it inside her rear. She unfastened the belt and gave it to Berri to wear. Berri fastened it around her waist and pulled a new spout from the box of fresh nozzles, all sealed in sterile paper like Band-Aids.

Berri snapped the two ends of the hose and nozzle together, and fed the tube into her ass. As much as anal could be loads of fun, the implants from the Futa Brew were too intense for her. It was perpetual, constant arousal that eventually felt like there was always a TV set to static in her mind. She preferred this system.

"Well, you all know what to do, so I'll leave you ladies to it." Suzanne moved towards the door, past January as she finally threw her dress off her body, revealing her nearly nude body.

"WHOA!" Berri shouted, pointing at January's crotch.

"Thanks." January smiled. "I thought the same thing when I saw yours. Damn, you must be bigger than twelve inches, right?"

"That's NOT what I'm 'whoa'-ing about!" Berri insisted.

Between January's legs was a penis, with a flaccid hang that Enola estimated would give her a nine or ten inch erection. And neatly to one side of it... was another penis, perhaps a little smaller. There were still only two testicles, at least that Berri could see.

Suzanne stopped in the doorway, standing with it open and letting all the valuable air conditioned air out into the unappreciative desert. "Ohh... didn't I mention that?"

Berri stared at her. "No, you didn't mention that she has two penises."

"Is this a problem?" January asked innocently.

"It's not a problem. I just didn't know it was even possible."

"Do they both... work?" Enola asked, hooking up her own belt.

"Wouldn't do me much good if they didn't."

Seeing Berri's look of helpless confusion, Suzanne closed the door and started her explanation. "This is the smallest Bukoffee franchise in existence, by square footage. It also has the least number of employees with eight. For the last two years, in October, the wait time for this store has been eight to ten minutes. We want to cut that down, but... there's no room for more than three baristas at a time. We could renovate to make this shop larger, but we only need the extra room in October and November, so it's not really financially sound."

"So..." Suzanne opened her hands. "How else do you get four penises in a facility that only holds three people?"

Berri didn't respond, but she knew the answer. Suzanne pressed on, "We flew January in from her home and put her up at the extended-stay for the next two months. It's the best option to keep the lines from building up."

"All right, then." Berri shrugged. "Whatever makes our jobs easier, I guess."

"Cool! I'm really happy to be here." January reached behind her and took off her bra, releasing her breasts. They were also dotted with freckles, like the sprinkles on a donut.

"Y-you're not going to wear a bra?" Berri asked, trying not to stare. Berri was very accustomed to the sight of erect penises. Even two of them side-by-side didn't seem that out of place. But erect nipples...

"Do I have to wear one?" January asked.

They both looked at Suzanne. She opened one hand. "I don't think so?"

"Good enough for me." January threw the bra into her pile of clothing and stuffed it underneath the counter. She pulled up a long cylindrical bag from the front of the store and opened the drawstring. January removed a folding canvas chair and set it between the desk and the window, leaving a small space to pass behind her.

"You're getting a chair? Seriously?" Berri asked.

"I need to use both hands." January commented. "I can't use one hand to steady myself if I get lightheaded. And I modified it for this..." She moved the armrests upwards until they were facing diagonally. She slid two plastic cups into the cupholders built into the armrests.

"See, the cups are at a 45-degree angle, so I can come up into them, hit the wall of the cup and the rest will settle at the bottom." January explained. "Speaking of bottom..."

January pulled out a sealed plastic bag and ripped open the perforated edge, rolling something out of the bag and into her palm. The pumpkin spice implant was red-orange, and larger than normal. It wasn't quite the size of a candied apple, but that's what Berri first thought when she saw it. It'd been years since Berri had seen one. Maybe this size was the new standard. Maybe this was how the Futa Brew would introduce their version of the 'super size' portion.

"Looks big." Enola said simply, never one to let an observation like that go unspoken.

"Is it?" January looked at it. "Well, I can handle it." January bent over and pressed the implant up against her ass. It stopped for a moment, but with a gentle push and a clench of teeth, it slid inside until nothing but the orange flange was visible. She did this in plain view of the others.

Berri felt her heart thumping and skin flush, and she hadn't even used her belt yet. She would feel a little guilty as she replayed what she just saw in her head over and over as she masturbated throughout the day.

She took her bank, put it in the register and got ready for the first car to pull up. She turned back behind her. Her view of the other register, and her longtime friend, was obstructed by the interloper, sitting on their own chair.

Enola moved past January and into the tiny alcove for the drive-up cashier. "Well, there's one good thing about this."

"What's that?" Berri asked.

"At least you won't have any pumpkin spice in you today."

Berri chuckled a bit. "Yeah..."

By the time she'd turned away, the first car had pulled up to the window. Berri pressed the button that automatically slide the drive-thru window open, took a breath of exhaust-tinged air and smiled.

At the Futa Brew, she had her prewritten introduction she always had to say. Here, in this tiny box of concrete and coffee, she just said, "What can I get ya?"

\--

The way this arrangement was sold to her, Berri's day would be easier because there would be a third person making drinks today. She'd have less orgasms, but also go home less exhausted.

This wasn't how it ended up working out in practice.

They were going through customers faster, but that meant the line for the drive-up was shorter, and customers wouldn't balk at the long line as they normally would when it got busy. Thus, those customers would enter the line... and make it longer.

Thus, Berri's day was about as hectic as normal. Except now, when five people wanted pumpkin spice in a row, she called out to the red-headed woman sitting in a chair who would whack it out, or have one already prepared from her spare schlong. Berri would actually go a few minutes without orgasming, but was still ringing in orders as fast as normal, faster when January had one already prepared, like the final dish a chef pulls out on a talk show.

If she went a while without masturbating at the Futa Brew, the effects of the implant kept stacking, until she was so horny she got thigh cramps and vertigo. The belts were more up-and-down, with a blast of intense arousal that cooled after ejaculation. But with no extract keeping her prostate company... she started to wilt.

Berri made another coffee for herself, selecting the Mudslide flavor. It was as close as she could come to her favorite alcoholic drink while working here. She sipped it and set it next to the unfinished amaretto cream that Adri had so kindly made for her. It helped a bit, but after too many pumpkin orders in a row... Berri was now flying at half-staff. Not entirely flaccid, but not as huge and turgid as normal.

She didn't want to make another coffee that she would barely touch. She tried to fantasize about something erotic. In her mind, Berri replayed the sight of January pushing that implant the size of a light bulb into her ass. That was pretty hot, and would hopefully enter her mind permanently if she really was going to see it every time she worked for the next two months.

Berri waggled herself a bit. It wasn't working yet; the image wasn't clear enough in her mind's eye. She longed for that stretched-out pocket pussy from her old job, not that she needed it there to stay hard. She played that scene from Cruel Intentions in her head. That usually worked, but she was only at three-quarter chub.

Tentatively, Berri's fingers went between her legs and teased her vulva, one finger peeking inside. She moved the finger back and forth, the way one scratches an itchy ear. Even this gentle touch got her to her full length again.

Berri bent over and slid her tongue along her cock head. This act would always get her hard, if she didn't have to be fully hard to accomplish it. She brought her forearms behind her knees and folded her body in half to press the head of her cock into her mouth. This was a trick she wished more people asked her to perform, and she enjoyed herself for a little while... perhaps almost forgetting where she was.

A car horn honked politely to get her attention. Berri stood straight up, a strand of drool connecting her lip and cock like a spider's web. A young African-American woman had pulled up to the drive-up window in her top-down convertible. Berri didn't know her name, but she was a regular customer.

Of course, the one time she sucked her own dick at work was the one time she was caught doing so by a customer who was there almost every day.

"Hey, Berri." Said the customer, elbow extended over her retracted window. "You don't have to stop if you don't want to."

"Nope, nope!" Berri insisted. "Break time's over. What can I get ya?"

"Do you guys have pumpkin spice today?"

"We sure do." Berri said with manufactured enthusiasm. "We have a temp here to help us make them." Berri pointed to January. "She's making all the pumpkin spice orders. She has two penises."

"Ha ha." The customer laughed sarcastically. "Pumpkin really is that popular, isn't it?"

From her vantage point in her car, she saw the redheaded woman in the distance turn in place, her two erections standing out from her like the two fingers in a peace sign.

"Whoa." The customer gasped.

"What, you thought I was joking?"

She bit her thumbnail. "I've got a special order, if you think you can fit it in. I want two pumpkin coffees, but you and whoever else is working suck them both out of her."

"Uhhhh..." Berri said uncertainly. She looked at the security camera footage of the drive-thru. Cars almost surrounded the little shop. "The line's too big to take a request right now. Come back later, and we can do it."

"OK." The woman drove off.

"We can do what?" Said Enola, sliding past January, as there were no customers at the walk-up counter.

"She wanted both of us to suck off January, but the line's too long right now."

"You promising that I'll do something without asking me first?" Enola said.

"Well, I was going to run it by you--"

Enola cut her off. "Well, if we aren't asking permission, then I guess I can just do this."

She put her hand behind Berri's head and kissed her on the lips.

"Like you need to ask to do this." Berri purred, as they kissed a little longer.

A new car pulled up, and the driver didn't interrupt them for a while. When they finally broke apart, the driver ordered a peppermint coffee.

"I'll get it." Enola said. But rather than reaching for her belt, she took a firm hold of Berri's cock and gave it a few tugs. Her other hand reached across to the register to collect a generous blob of clear gel from a nearby hand pump.

"That's not lube; that's hand sanitizer." Berri said rapidly, as the cupped palm full of gel approached her cock.

"Why do you have this up here?" Enola rubbed the wad of sanitizer between her hands, just to get rid of it. "What, you use it every time you whack it?"

"What? Money's dirty."

This customer had to settle for the spectacle of Berri making the peppermint coffee alone. The next customer was luckier, permitted to watch as Enola, hands now empty and perfectly sanitized, clutched around Berri's cock and jerked it off while kissing Berri's cheek. Berri moaned breathlessly as Enola gently... ever so gently... closed her hand around Enola's throat. She wasn't choking or restricting Berri at all, but the contact did bring a strong blush to Berri's face anyway.

When she knew Berri was getting close, she brought her mouth around Berri's earlobe and gently held it between her teeth, tugging down the slightest bit.

The reaction was as immediate as flipping down a light switch. Berri pinched her eyes shut and let out a squeal higher in pitch than she meant to. Her cup filled with hot semen, as they each used their free hand to keep Berri steady on her feet so she wouldn't fall over.

When Berri's senses returned to her, she looked at the slightly shallow volume of what she produced this time.

"Oh, gosh. We got so carried away, I never selected a flavor." Berri said. "What did you want again?"

The customer reiterated their previously ignored request of a blueberry muffin coffee, a flavor subtly distinct from normal blueberry coffee.

"Alright, while we make this, I'll get rid of this." Enola pressed the proper button. She shook a bit as the belt delivered the formula to where it needed to go, and Enola started whacking with one hand and sipping Berri's mistake, not letting it go to waste. "You want a sip?" Enola offered.

"I don't know. I've never had my own without a FLAVOR."

Berri shouted the last word as Enola pressed a button on Berri's belt and blueberry concentrate flowed unexpectedly into her rear. Her cock became stiff almost immediately, with the accompanying rush in her heartbeat.

"I bet you want a sip now..." Enola moved the cup to Berri's mouth. Berri managed to release the lower lip she was biting to put out her tongue. Enola painted a ribbon of come on Berri's tongue like frosting a fancy strudel.

The management at Bukoffee encouraged their baristas to be as familiar with as many of the flavors as possible. This small fluctuation in the product was calculated into the yield levels of the concentrate cartridges. Thus, the baristas had essentially unlimited access to flavored coffee. Berri had taken advantage of this many times... sometimes not even bothering to dirty a cup to try out the flavors. Having now tasted her emissions, unadulterated by extracts and other funny business...

The uncertain technology of the belt was what made Berri's come taste like strawberries or tiramisu. But Berri was the one that made it sweet.

The unflavored cup finished, Enola got to filling a new one. With some of the extract inside her but no order to fill, Berri could only watch as Enola jerked off her wonderful thick cock. The white nails against her smooth tan skin, matching the color of the perfect blended coffee...

Berri reached across Enola's stomach and pressed the blueberry button on Enola's belt again. She squealed, another dose delivered and making her even harder. Enola pressed a random button on Berri's belt. Berri whimpered, and Enola thought it sounded so sexy, she had to do it again.

"Stop!' Berri whined. She'd grown harder than an equal piece of titanium.

Enola pressed a button one more time.

There was no release of CO2, and Berri didn't feel anything new enter her ass. They both looked down to Berri's belt.

"Huh." Berri said shortly. "It looks like the belt has a limit or something on it so you can't just fill up forever."

"Can the belt tell whether you've come or not?"

"I don't think so; I think it's just on a timer." Berri pressed one button repeatedly. Nothing new was produced.

Enola lurched forward and leaned against the counter as she came and filled her cup. The sight of the ropes of come lashing forward into the plastic cup, and the smell of blueberries...

Berri filled her own cup... and filled it quite high.

In the gap between this customer and the next, Berri sniffed the cup she'd just created. She couldn't identify the smell, except the multiple sweet scents reminded her of Halloween, for some reason.

"What buttons did you press?" Berri asked.

"I don't know. I just hit random buttons." She looked on her own belt. Because the cartridges were modular, there was no guarantee that the different belts would have the same cartridges in the same place. "No big deal. I'll try to sell it to the next customer as Spooky Ooky Mystery Coffee." Enola said.

On cue, the next car pulled up. It was the African-American customer who had asked for the special order.

"Did you just drive around the building?" Berri asked.

"Is it later yet?" She responded, with a hint of desperation.

"There's still a line of cars behind you."

"OK, then how about this?" Her hand entered and left her purse in a flash, and she retrieved two bills, handing them to Berri. Only when Berri unfolded them did she realize that they were hundreds.

For Bukoffee, the rules were clear: tipping was not allowed. This was to discourage 'tipping' for performing sexual favors on the customers. Having sex with coworkers was another matter, and entirely at the discretion of the two baristas (or three or four). These rules were taken very seriously at the Futa Brew and other competing chains. None of the baristas at any such chain were in a hurry to get a reputation as an actual prostitute.

At Bukoffee... the rule was there, in all the training manuals. But in practice... it was more like a suggestion.

"January? Could you come in here, please?"

January entered the tiny cashier alcove. "Hello!" She waved at the customer.

"We have a regular customer here, and she's great, so would you mind if we give her a show and we suck two pumpkin coffees out of you?"

January rolled her eyes dramatically and smiled. "I guess so..." She said as the others went to their knees. "But you two owe me."

Berri groaned a bit, but nevertheless took January's right cock and Enola took the left. Berri lowered her mouth over the head and gently moved it around her mouth. It was actually nice to have a somewhat smaller cock to suck, rather than the jaw-stretching ones she normally worked with... like hers. As she warmed up, she went further down the shaft, the head moving further and further back until she finally let it down her throat.

She looked up, and saw Enola working January's other cock. Sliding up and down, moaning quietly as she felt the hot thing slide through her mouth, the skin moving gently as she moved, the cock growing shinier as more aroused spit was delivered against it...

Even in the world of gonzo pornography, one rarely got to see a blowjob from this close, even if you were the recipient. Seeing Enola's beautiful eyes so close... while she was sucking a mean cock...

They couldn't stick their tongues out and touch them together, as they were on the wrong side of January's cock. But they could rub noses, in that ever-dorky maneuver of which Enola disapproved of the accepted American name.

January started crying out. After hearing her endless ululations, Berri figured she had a moment to grab a cup before she actually ejaculated. Enola got her mouth free and pointed the cock she was previously sucking down into the cup. Berri didn't quite reach it in time, and her mouth filled with come before she could point the other cock into its own cup.

Berri held her cup up for January to finish while she spat out the rest of the pumpkin-flavored come into a nearby trash can.

"Hey, don't waste it!" January said.

'What, was I going to spit it into her coffee?"

"I would've been fine with that." The customer said.

"Well, I couldn't ask if you were until it was out of my mouth."

"There we go." Enola presented the two finished coffees.

The customer accepted them and then handed her credit card to them for payment. At least Berri finally knew her name: Jessie.

Berri handed the card back. "I hope you enjoy it." She said.

Jessie sipped one of the coffees, setting it back in the cupholder. "Oh, I will."

Before vacating the space for the next customer, Jessie slid her thumb into the waistband of her yoga pants, and pulled them down. Down her left pant leg, she exposed inch after inch of hard black cock until it finally came free, snapping up against her stomach just as she drove off.

Berri shivered. "Wow, that was hot. I hate when the dudes do that, but that was bloody hot."

The next customer pulled up, surprised to find the barista already flushed and masturbating. "What can I get you?" She asked, her voice wobbling as the jerking shook her whole body.

"Uh..." The customer stared at the sight for a moment before answering. "Toasted almond?"

"Coming right up."

Berri came a few seconds after pressing the button.

This is why I come here, the customer thought. Lightning-fast service.

And sweet jizz wrung from huge penises. That was also a contributing factor.

The walk-up counter currently empty, January asked Enola a question of protocol. "If I were at the window, and some dude flashed me... what am I permitted to do?"

"Throw hot coffee in his lap." Enola said. "There was an incident at the Sacremento location. Someone kept flashing the baristas and driving off. One of them made an ink bomb and threw it at him and ruined his car interior. We got sued, and they eventually dropped it, since he basically had to admit that he was committing a sex crime to sue us. The company said we can’t do that anymore. But they can’t really stop us from throwing coffee. Needless to say... there aren’t really security cameras pointed at us. They’re all outside."

"Is it sexist that I would do that to a dude, but not a fellow futa?" January asked.

"That’s not sexist; that’s sisterhood." Berri joined in, talking over her shoulder while helping another customer with a caramel pecan turtle coffee. "Look, I’ve had that happen only a few times. They were all dudes, and... they weren’t attractive. And they weren’t hung, either. Like... whether they do it because they like feeling humiliated or because they want to disgust us... that’s why they do it. If they just said, "wanna see what I got?’ I’d say ‘sure,’ even if I didn’t want to. Seeing their dick doesn’t bother me, but the fact that they think they can just show it off and drive off with no repercussions... THAT bothers me."

January blinked. "It still feels a bit sexist."

"Nah, this is a classic false equivalence. Every dude that drives up here... we KNOW that they have dicks. But many futa sisters still hide themselves. That woman is the FIRST futa flasher I’ve seen in four years. I know futa customers are pretty rare, but we know there’s a few who come here. They could make this coffee at home, but they come here and pay for it. A futa showing herself is telling us that she is a fellow futa sister, and she knows what it’s like. A man showing it to us does it because they can’t do it anywhere else. And it would be no different if we worked here or at Macca’s."

"Unless they ask."

"Sure! If they ask, they can do whatever."

"But futas don’t have to ask."

"That never happens! Today’s the first time. If the guy’s are going to show it off, they could at least groom themselves. Get it ready for showtime..."

Berri, master mixer and server that she was, had prepared the coffee for this customer during the previous monologue. It also meant that he had heard the exchange, and looked at her a little uncomfortably while paying.

"Not to protest too much..." Said the customer, a reasonably handsome fellow in a suit. "But I'd never do that."

"Well, now you got me all curious." Berri said, accepting his twenty dollar bill. "So far, all the flashers have been small, so logically..."

The man looked about. "Well, I'm not in the double digits, so..."

"Neither am I." January said, stepping forward. "But I'm nine-and-a-half twice. So though I don't have the biggest penis here, I can say that I have the MOST penis."

"By length, but maybe not by volume." Enola noted, just barely able to fit into the drive-up alcove.

"Oh, if I wanted to do math, I would've gone to college." January said.

Perhaps intimidated by the yard of cock on display, the customer drove off. January spoke up again, "So where's my cut of that tip?"

"What? All you did was receive fellatio. This is not an equal split of labor." Enola said.

"But you wouldn't even have that tip if it wasn't for me." January said. "Just split it three ways in the drawer."

"You can't split it there." Berri put her hand in front of the register. "If they see two hundred-dollar bills come through, they'll know someone tipped us. We just have to split it later... if you really think that getting paid what we already get paid AND getting a blowjob wasn't worth it. Was I really that bad?"

"Oh no, it was ace." January gave her the thumbs-up. "Or whatever you Australian sheilas say."

"I'm from New Zealand!" She cried.

"Wherever it's from, it's sexy as hell." January smiled.

Berri turned away, so January wouldn't see her blushing.

\--

Hours spun by in a flurry of orders and orgasms. Finally, the clock reached 10:30, a universally accepted time in the coffee business where you MIGHT be able to disappear for two minutes to go to the bathroom and the line wouldn't grow to be forty cars long.

Berri handed off another pumpkin coffee to a happy fall enthusiast, and finally... there were no cars to be seen. She sighed and took a sip of her lukewarm coffee.

She left the drive-up window and approached January. "Why do you have to be so loud?" Berri finally said.

"What?" January asked, standing from her chair.

"All this." Berri mimicked her enthusiastic moaning. "No-one else who works here is that loud. It's obnoxious having to hear that for hours and hours."

"Hey, it's just what I do." January shrugged. "And the customers love it."

"The customers can barely see you from the window. If you want to do it for the walk-ins, fine, but there's no need to do it every time."

"Well, that's how I like to do it."

"How about we make a wager?" Berri said. "I bet you that you actually CAN shut up while masturbating."

"What are we betting? The hundred from earlier?"

"No, nothing that big." Berri said, keeping the hundred tucked into the cup of her bra. "We don't make huge bets here. Something like... if I win, you pay for lunch for us. If you win, I'll pay for it."

January looked around. There were no customers at the walk-up counter. "OK, sure. But you're going to have to do it."

"Excuse me?"

"Every drop of this pumpkin jizz is bought and sold. If I'm going to ejaculate on spec, then I'm not going to do it myself." January reached under the counter and picked up her phone. "So I can finally catch up on a few texts."

Berri sighed, and took hold of January's left cock, wanking it as they stood face-to-face. January focused entirely on her phone conversation, tapping away with both thumbs.

At least for now, she was quiet. Her breath deepened as she got closer to the edge.

"See? This isn't so difficult, is it?"

January let out a moan, about as loud as normal. She came into Berri's cup... and also directly against Berri's stomach with her other cock. Berri looked down with the disapproval of a dog that had done something to the new carpet.

"Oh, come on." Berri grabbed a second cup and caught the rest. "You could've told me they work as a set."

"You didn't know?" January said innocently.

Berri waited for the cocks to empty before setting the cups aside and answering. "Well, why jerk off with both hands, then?"

"See, you seem to forget that we're not actually working in customer service." January said. "This is theater. It's not about doing what's most effective, or what's most realistic. It's whatever the customer wants... within reason."

"No..." Berri squinted. "I work in customer service. Maybe you think this is theater because you're not serving the customers! You're just sat there in your chair."

"I'm making the pumpkin. I've had over two hundred orgasms already. That's work."

"Fine. Whatevah." Berri threw up her hands.

"So... I won the bet, then?" January asked.

Berri turned around. "No, I won it. You were able to keep quiet."

"But if the bet was that I COULD keep quiet, why wouldn't I have just squealed and won the bet on purpose?"

"OK, how about this?" Berri altered the deal. "I'll buy you lunch if you try to keep a lid on it, unless you're doing it for a customer at the counter."

"Fine with me." January agreed.

Berri returned to the drive-up alcove to serve a customer. January turned to Enola at the walk-up counter. "She doesn't like me." She whispered.

"That's not it." Enola denied. "She just doesn't like pumpkin spice."

\--

Lunch arrived. Since leaving the coffee shop presented some logistical problems, most lunches and dinners were ordered from a pizzeria in the same plaza. They were most often driven over by the proprietor, an African-American dude named Sal. None of them knew what Sal was short for.

Sal himself was not short, always having to dip his head down a bit to clear the doorway. Barrel-like in stature, he nearly filled the walk-up area by himself. A lover of all things barbecue, the advance of fall didn't summon images of colorful autumn leaves in his mind, but dark red ribs at the tailgate.

Beneath the drive-up counter and the walk-in counter, there was a silent alarm in case of a robbery, a standard feature in coffee shops, even those that didn't have huge naked futa cocks. If they had a problem smaller than this, someone behaving inappropriately towards the baristas... they didn't call the police. They called Sal. His very presence could scare someone away, so long as they didn't know he was as gentle and kind as a kitten.

"Here we go, ladies." He presented the white plastic bag with their lunches.

"Thank you, Sal." Enola took the bag from him. "Can you break a hundred?"

"Always." Sal smiled, pulling out a huge wad of folded cash. When inside his pocket, his money clip and his belt must have a lot to talk about, both asked to contain more mass than they were designed to hold.

"Berri, you got the money?" Enola called into the drive-up window. Berri finished the transaction she was wrapped up in and walked to the walk-up counter, pulling the money from her brassiere.

"Can you break two?" She gave him the two Franklins. He gave her back $180 in twenties, tens and fives. Berri split it between herself and Enola, and then split the steak sandwich they were going to share.

"So you must be new here. I'm Sal. I run Sal's Subs across the way. If you need anything, they know my number." Sal shook January's hand and left, waddling as quickly as his stocky body would take him across the blacktop.

January opened her lunch, cubed chicken breasts sprinkled into a green salad. "Oh, sweet. This wasn't what I wanted when I asked for chicken salad." She unwrapped her plastic fork. "But this is way better."

"For a guy who doesn't seem familiar with them, his salads are actually really good." Enola said, holding her half of the steak sandwich.

January munched a few green mouthfuls of her salad. "So... did Sal just not notice that I have two penises?"

"That's Sal." Berri said. "I've known him for a few years, and he never once treats us like anything but like we're his special daughters."

"He asked me about it once." Enola noted.

"Really? Why?"

"Well, I was a little worried about his health, so once I... asked him how much he weighed." Enola confessed. "And he said, 'I don't mind you asking that question, and I'll answer that question if you answer one for me.' So he asked me how big I was, because he figured it was a similarly sort of embarrassing personal question."

"None of us are embarrassed about it."

"That's how he feels about his weight. I don't think he was even actually interested."

"How big are you two, anyway?" January asked. "I already told you two my sizes. I'm curious about yours."

"I don't think we have a ruler here." Berri said. "They don't make the novelty rulers like they do at Futa Brew."

"Just do this, then." January encouraged them to put their split steak sandwich back together, the single bite that Berri had eaten missing from the center. They brought the sandwich to the edge of the counter, and Berri brought her cock next to it. It extended past the edge of the sandwich at least a few inches.

"So... that's definitely a footlong, then." January smiled.

Enola measured up. Hers was a little thicker, but shorter by less than an inch. She was still larger than the sandwich, and she'd never heard any complaints.

"Beautiful." January said.

"Cool, now let's eat before someone shows up." Berri took back her half of the sandwich and took another bite.

January stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork. She pointed towards the window. Berri put her lunch back down, snapped up and went to the window.

"Hey, what can I get ya?" She asked as she reached the counter.

The young woman in his car snickered. "How about whatever you were samplin'?"

"Pardon me?" Berri craned her head. The customer pointed to the corner of her own mouth, and Berri automatically mimicked it, and her finger found a tiny blob of white at the corner of her mouth. "This is mayonnaise. I swear."

"Suuure it is."

"If it was come, why would I lie about it? More days than not, I give or receive at least one hummer."

The driver was quiet.

"What's on ya mind?" Berri asked.

"Well, I'd like a gingerbread, but... maybe you could... give me a little dirty talk on the side? Even just the way you say 'mayonnaise' is so cute."

"Oh, you want some dirty talk, you little bitch?" Berri said, taking hold of the base of her cock and starting a slow, even stroke.

Despite all the fun positions she and her fellow baristas could get up to during the course of the day... this was her favorite customer request. Her customers were almost exclusively Americans, and that meant they all thought her accent was exotic and cute. It also allowed her to vent some of the frustration built up during the day. Of course, she couldn't be too nasty, just like how coffee shouldn't be too bitter.

Berri was an expert; she knew exactly what to say.

"Ooh..." She sucked in hard through her teeth as she worked herself. "You're such a hot little thing... please don't call my boss and tell her I swore at you. Then she'll fire me and I'll have to live in your basement as your filthy cock-slave."

"I have an apartment." The woman said, writhing in her car seat.

"That works." Berri curled her lips and jerked herself harder. "I'll live in your kitchen and spunk whenever you need a pick-me-up. Just wring that come out of my hard cock..."

The customer started to blush. "I just love the way you say 'cock' and 'come' with your accent..."

Berri smiled. The Kiwi accent was like autopilot for sexy. So was a cock over twelve inches, of course. She finally pressed the gingerbread flavor button on her belt. The lust burning inside her tripled, and she jerked herself with two hands for a while, pointing herself out the window, nearly intruding into the customer's car.

Freeing one hand, Berri got an empty cup and did something she normally wasn't allowed to do: she handed it to the customer before filling it. "Here." Berri gasped as she edged closer. "Hold this and let me shoot into it."

The customer held the cup over the tip of Berri's cock. Berri felt it building inside her.

"You a futa?" Berri asked.

"What?" The customer leaned back.

"I'm just wonderin', because we had a futa customer earlier, and that is just so hot." Berri said. "I love the idea that a futa could easily eat her own jizz, but instead comes here and PAYS me to wring out a hot blast of my sweet sweet come."

The customer looked off for a moment.

"You don't have to tell me." Berri said. "I get it. We all have secrets. Save it for the bedroom, when you sling that monster out, so thick and hot and... and..."

And Berri came out of the drive-up window and into the cup, the woman swooping the cup about to catch it all.

When Berri's senses returned, she saw a diagonal streak of come on the woman's face, ending near the edge of her mouth.

"Oh, my God, I'm sorry!" She held her hand out as she took the cup back to fill it with coffee.

"It's fine." The woman said. "I... let it happen on purpose." She licked a bit from the corner of her mouth. "You can't tell me that THIS is just mayo..."

Berri quickly made the coffee and the customer paid. When Berri handed the customer the change, the customer handed something back: her panties, a dainty pink pair sitting in both of Berri's palm like a kitty, and just as soft and warm.

Folding her hands together around them, Berri whispered, "I love this job."

No one else was waiting at the drive-up, so Berri went back to the walk-up counter and continued eating her sandwich.

"What are those?" Enola asked.

Berri held the panties out. "A souvenir from a customer." She put it with her clothing under the desk. "See, this is why I like this better than the Futa Brew. I don't know if you've seen one, January, but they don't have drive-ups. The drive-up makes some of the customers bold. I love it."

January quietly finished her mouthful of salad before speaking up.

"I worked at a Futa Brew."

Berri blinked. "You did?"

"I did. I actually moved from my parents' home in Cleveland to Portland for an entry-level position at the Futa Brew. I figured it was the perfect job for me."

She took a deep breath. "And it didn't work out. The crew was all great, but the customers didn't like me. They thought I was gross, a freak. They thought I was weird. I couldn't believe it. Not everyone, but... enough customers were bothered by it. The one time I thought I'd be accepted was there. So... one time, I tried hiding my second cock in my shirt. But, as you saw, they work as a set.

"So I quit. I went home with nothing. The Futa Brew had a lot of benefits, but severance packages aren't one of them. But somehow, someone here heard about the freak show from a few years ago, and offered me a job. So they tuck me in where people won't see me. They want my come, but they don't want to see my two cocks.

"So... I guess this is the best I can hope for." January said, her head tipped down. "Even as the only diphalic futa in the world... the best I can hope for is to be built into the wall and used like a beer tap, everyone pretending it's two different futa back there."

Berri set down her sandwich. She grabbed January and hugged her tightly.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. "I'm so sorry. I know that feeling. And I'm sorry I was cross with you. I just... I got jealous because you're getting so many hours and you just got here. It took me a while to build up to full-time. Those four extra hours I'm not getting... what difference does that make?"

"At our pay rate, about one hundred ninety bucks." Enola said.

"Well... that would be cool." Berri rocked her head. "But... screw it. I love this job, and I love my coworkers. I don't see any reason why I shouldn't love you as well."

Berri kissed January. They both smiled. When they pulled apart, Enola moved in and kissed January on the lips.

"Have you ever met a Cherokee futa?" Enola asked, looking into her eyes intensely.

"No." January answered.

Enola sighed. "Me, neither. Or any other Native-American futa. Being a futa meant maybe being the only one you'll ever know... until they started opening these shops and forcing people to deal with it. No tucking, no stuffing, no pretending it's not there, no pretending we're something else."

January sniffled a bit, and kissed Enola again, and then Berri, and then Enola again, and...

-

A customer drove up to the drive up window. Berri was bent over, nearly hanging out the window, Enola beside her, both moaning and rocking as January stood behind them, thrusting.

"Welcome to Bukoffee. What can we get for you?" January asked.

The customer removed her sunglasses as she watched the other two baristas writhing and panting at January's stern humping. Enola had pulled Berri's breasts out of the cups of her bra and held them, Berri's nipples poking out between Enola's fingers. Berri's tongue was close to hanging out like a dog sticking their head out the car window.

"Uh... could I get a caramel apple?"

"It's buy-one-get-one-free." January added.

"Huhh...huhhh..." Berri just couldn't find the breath in her lungs to tell the customer that no, in fact, it wasn't.

"All right, then." She put her finger to her chin to think about it. Enola wished she'd hurry up and make up her mind already. "How about a red velvet cake coffee, too?"

"Coming right up." January obnoxiously stressed the first word. She pressed the appropriate buttons on both her coworker's belts. Berri pinched her eyes shut as she cried out, her cheeks growing red. Enola's mouth was formed into a near-permanent 'oh' face.

Without stopping her stride, January pulled the two of them up off the counter, standing them next to each other, hip-to-hip. January grabbed two cups and passed them to her coworkers before turning up the gas and pounding them even harder.

At about the same moment, Enola and Berri 'made' the two coffees... without ever touching their cocks. January was ready, pouring the coffee into each cup and stirring them, all with her coworkers hanging off her cocks like coats on a rack.

"When..." Berri panted. "are you going to come?"

"When someone asks for pumpkin."

Seven cars rolled by. None of them ordered a pumpkin spice coffee. The eighth car, to Berri's relief, ordered four. She pressed the buttons on the yet-unused 'pumpkin' cartridges on their belts.

Two cups went to Berri and Enola, and January held the others between her coworkers' legs. At the same moment, all four cups filled with autumn-themed sweetness, the lower two filled with whatever splattered out of their pussies.

Berri and Enola tried to stay standing. Their job kept them on their feet almost perpetually. Now, they were so exhausted, so drained and yet so pleasantly filled... they both collapsed to the rubber anti-slip mat at their feet, tumbling like a pair of crash dummies.

"Are they OK?" The customer asked, trying to look below the window. "Whoa, two dicks."

"That's not a nice thing to call my coworkers." January joked.

At the floor, tangled below January's legs, Berri somehow managed to open her eyes, looking up to the ceiling. She tried to remember how her muscles worked so nobody would accuse her of failing to to her job.

"So..." Enola croaked, her face partially underneath Berri's arm. "What do you think of the new girl?"

Berri looked up again, looking between January's legs, not that she had much choice, given her position.

"Y'know..." Berri said. "When she first got her, I wasn't sure about her. But... she's fun."

Enola put two fingers together and slipped them past Berri's balls and into her vulva, very low, just above her perineum. A few drops of come trickled out from the opening, collected onto Enola's fingers. She brought the morsel to Berri's lips.

"Let's see if you like pumpkin now..."

Berri slipped her tongue out from between her lips, and Enola delivered the wad of come to it.

And Berri spat it off her tongue before she even could retract it back past her teeth. She coughed and retched.

"I guess not." Enola said.


End file.
